


The last time

by shorter_than_hammo_and_clara



Category: British Comedy RPF, Mock the Week RPF
Genre: Gen, Slightly graphic, Sorry about guns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-23
Updated: 2014-10-23
Packaged: 2018-02-22 07:41:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2499938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shorter_than_hammo_and_clara/pseuds/shorter_than_hammo_and_clara
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An armed man in the Mock The Week studios, his target, and the last time yet another man ever set foot in those studios</p>
            </blockquote>





	The last time

**Author's Note:**

> My brain did this.

"And the topic is: Unlikely lines to hear in an episode of Crimewatch," boomed Dara. Three meters above him, a man smirked. The added irony! He fidgeted in his seat trying not to alert the rest of the room to the presence of a special thing in his jacket. He waited. Sooner or later it would be time. ******************************************************************************************************************************************************** Andy Parsons had a really good one. He was sure there'd be applause. All he had to do was wait for the others to bleeding let him get to the mic. He sighed. Finally, it was his turn. He stepped up to the mic.

"Sir, are you sure-" he began. He was cut off by a man in the audience.

"YES I'M BLEEDING SURE!" Andy frowned. Had he had too much to drink? Wait, what was he doi- "GET DOWN! HE'S GOT A GUN!" roared another man in the audience.

Everyone squatted down and covered their heads. All except one. ******************************************************************************************************************************************************** "No!" A voice rang out, piercing the silence. Andy turned his head cautiously.

"Milton?" he asked, confused. "What are you- GET DOWN!" His voice changed into a shout. "GET DOWN! YOU CAN'T- JUST GET DOWN!"

"You can't shoot him!" yelled Milton, his voice amplified somehow. The armed man's face twisted into a smile.

"Why?" he asked

"Because I won't let you!" ********************************************************************************************************************************************************The man ignored Milton. He took aim. Andy squeezed his eyes shut. He didn't want to have to see the bullet come zooming towards his face. A loud bang. Then screams. Then another loud bang. More screams. A thud. Andy opened his eyes cautiously. He was pretty sure that he was still alive. The same could not be said, however, for the man with the gun. He had commited suicide. Where was Milton though? ********************************************************************************************************************************************************

_Never had the pain been so bad. Never. He had squeezed his eyes shut as the bullet ripped through his chest, and now, as he opened them, he could see the red soaking through. Red. Blood. His eyesight blurred and he let out an involuntary groan._

"MIlton!"  _He had heard the screams and they echoed in his brain._ _But this one was different._ _  
_

"Andy?"

 _He could hear the sobs._ "Please, Milton, stay alive. For me. For all of us. For-"  _Andy's voice broke._

_He groaned again, a wheezy, pained groan. His entire shirt was stained with blood now. But then, a grin spread across his face. An insane grin._

"I KNEW I should have worn a red shirt today!"  _He laughed for the last time in his life, his own strange mixture of a sore throat and Jimmy Carr. His vision was getting blurrier and blurrier every second, and he knew he was slipping away. He closed his green eyes._

_********************************************************************************************************************************************************_

It had been a year. ONE ENTIRE SODDING YEAR. But yet the wounds were as fresh as they had been a second after the- He couldn't even bear to think of it.

Mock The Week had been cancelled in respect. There had been tributes pouring in for the man with messy dark brown hair and the blinding shirts. 

The grave. The inscription. The everlasting pain.

_In loving memory of_

_Milton Hywel Jones_

_1964-2015_

_Rest In Peace_

He laid the flowers there and studied the inscription again. "Rest In Peace" Milton would have made a joke about it.

He had to go before he- too late. The tears had started flowing down his cheeks.

WHY? WHY? And again, and this time it was out loud.

"WHYYYYYYYYYY?!"

He screamed it loud to the world and he screamed it until his lungs gave in (which was a long time since we are talking about Andy Parsons here). 

"Milton," he whimpered softly. 

**Author's Note:**

> Well, I hope you enjoyed that. :)
> 
> If you have any suggestions/requests for fics please put them in the comments below.
> 
> **Please note that I will not complete slash fic requests**
> 
> Fandoms I'm in (just to make my life (and yours) a teeny bit easier and you know what fandoms I'm in (so that when you make requests you'll know what I'm good at doing and know a bit about):  
> Mock The Week  
> QI  
> Would I Lie To You  
> Have I Got News for You  
> Big Fat Quiz of the Year  
> 8 Out of 10 Cats  
> Never Mind the Buzzcocks  
> Bad Education  
> Not Going Out  
> The Thick of It (although I'd very much prefer not to write any sweary bits thank you very much)  
> Top Gear  
> Doctor Who  
> Sherlock  
> Elementary


End file.
